


Hands Meant For Healing

by GhostGarrison



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Assisted Suicide, Canonical Character Death, Caretaking, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mercy Killing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 07:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11709498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostGarrison/pseuds/GhostGarrison
Summary: The reason why Anders became a spirit healer was to help Karl with his chronic pain and illnesses. As a tranquil, it's plain to see that he hasn't gotten nearly the same care as Anders once provided.





	Hands Meant For Healing

**It’s the coughing that wakes him.**

The continuous wet, hacking sounds have Anders out of bed in seconds. He only bothers to pull on his thick woolen stockings before padding through the tower’s cold hall in only his nightclothes. Thankfully the nightwatch is light at this time of night and his journey isn’t long, only to the dormitory next to his own.

No one is surprised to see him making his way through the darkened room to back of the large room, a path his feet know by heart after following it so many times. Most apprentices are now awake from the noise, blinking wearily at him in the dim candlelight, their eyes pleading for Anders to bring them relief from this unfortunately frequent disturbance.

Arm bent over his face, Karl continues to cough uncontrollably into the crook of his elbow. The sound is wet and grotesque, no doubt from bile and mucous that never seems to disappear for more than an afternoon. Even from a dozen steps away, Anders can see how the other apprentice’s whole body shudders with every cough and how his chest heaves desperately for breath between them.

Gingerly sitting at the edge of the narrow mattress, bed occupant doesn’t notice his presence until Anders' hands alight with healing energy and settle on his chest. The effect is immediate, the other apprentice quickly stills beneath him, melting as the soothing magic flows into his veins. He focuses on his lungs, clearing them the best he can and soothing his aching ribcage. There’s many more issues there, buried deep in his body in places that Anders cannot reach with his still developing skills, but he fixes what he can, as much as he can.

Anders smiles sadly when his beloved finally looks up at him, breathing in deep breaths and slowly blinking at him with tired eyes. He slides his hand up Karl’s chest, over his sweat-damp nightshirt and the blossoming beard he’s been trying to grow over the past few weeks. Karl unconsciously leans into his touch, pushing his feverish cheek into Anders’ cool palm as he cups his face.

“Have you been feeling like this all day?” Anders asks, frowning when Karl doesn’t respond right away. His rubs his thumb over the crest of Karl’s cheek, only to be stilled when Karl’s clammy hand rises to cover his. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Karl replies, his voice hoarse from his severe coughing spell. He sounds just as miserable as he must feel, and it all tugs at Anders’ heart. “I’m not your responsibility.”

Anders’ other hand tightens into a fist in his lap. Karl does this often, the stubborn fool. He does his best to push through the pain, to go without help for as long as possible. Before Anders, he constantly found himself waking up in the infirmary where Enchanter Wynne would fuss over him for hours before sending him away with a temporary cure. But now Anders has readily taken that duty over, unbeknownst to her, and he won’t let that happen again.

“It’s no matter,” Anders assures him, hoping his genuine concern and care shines through his quiet tone. “I _want_ to take care of you.”

Karl’s various chronic illnesses are, in fact, the only reason he’s pursued the school of Spirit Healing with as much vigor and speed as he has. Since the day he first relieved Karl of his symptoms and lessened his pain, Anders vowed he would continue to do so for as long as he could. Seeing someone he loves with his whole being in such agony cuts Anders deep, especially when he’s able to do something about it.

“You’re too good to me,” Karl says in just over a whisper, his heavy eyelids falling shut. It isn’t long until his breathing evens out, clear of hitches and stutters of any incoming coughs. The quiet snores sends a rush of relief through Anders, knowing that Karl should be good--not healthy, but alive--for at least a day or two.

“No such thing,” Anders says quietly to himself, even though he knows Karl can’t hear him now. Hanging his head, he carefully extracts his hand from Karl’s weak grip. Anders leans over, pressing a kiss to the other apprentice’s still fever-warm forehead. “It’s because I love you.”

Words he’ll never let himself say when Karl’s conscious. 

+++

**It’s written all over his face.**

The years of illness without proper care is etched into the lines around his mouth and the bags beneath his eyes. Karl’s once sparkling blue eyes are now dull, even more lifeless than the eyes of most tranquils Anders has seen, and his hair has greyed far too early for a man of their age. He looks older, his poor health having taken years from his life that should have been long under Anders’ care.

The gold sunburst ironed on the man’s forehead taunts Anders, screaming _‘failure failure failure’_ at him in a never-ending echo he can’t escape. The Chantry believes that all lives, including the mage’s, are made better by the Rite of Tranquility, but it’s clear to Anders that they haven’t been taking care of his love’s health. Karl should be youthful and radiant, only a taller and wiser version of himself that Anders once knew from the Circle, but it nearly kills Anders that all this was stolen away from him.

Karl sniffles slightly as the templars rush in to surround them, coughing a few times into the sleeve of his Chantry robe. Though the danger to all of them is immediate, the sick sounds of his beloved fills Anders with the urge to drop everything and soothe him.

He isn’t given that chance.

“Anders, please,” Karl says, and his voice sounds eerily like how he used to plead Anders to heal him in the deepest throes of his highest fevers. It’s unnerving. “Kill me before I forget again.”

Grip tightening around his staff, Anders feels his whole body trembling from being struck by such a request. Anders knows in his heart that his hands, as blood-stained as they have become, are meant to heal those who need it, those he loves. Even now, in the face of his beloved in such physical and emotional pain, Anders yearns to heal, not to hurt.

Memories of all the nights he’s spent at Karl’s bedside in the dormitory flood his mind like an unstoppable ocean tide--all the times he’s kept Karl alive and healthy enough to continue on with his studies, to hold Anders’ hand under the library table and kiss them both breathless when eyes were turned away.

“It’s fading,” Karl continues urgently, only moments before the light of cognition leaves his eyes. The transformation is punctuated with a fit of coughing, the man bent in half as he struggles for breath.

_‘This is no way to live,’_ something in the back of Anders’ mind says. Justice. _‘They have taken so much from him, and he doesn’t deserve what little they have left.’_

Fingers curling around the knife in his hand, Justice helps him through the hesitation he has about killing the only person in his life he’s truly loved. Perhaps this, in its own way, is just as good as a healing spell. A permanent one, relieving Karl of every pain and illness all at once.

Anders catches him in his arms when Karl stumbles forward, warm wet blood gushing from the wound in his chest. They sink to the floor and Anders doesn’t let go of Karl as he coughs up the blood filling his lungs. He reaches out and grasps hold of Anders’ robes, as even a tranquil mage cannot fight the rush of unruly and violent emotions that accompany death.

_‘Endure, love,’_ Anders thinks, brushing limp damp strands of hair out of Karl’s face while he spasms and gags in his arms. _‘These are the last coughs you’ll ever have.’_

When he’s certain the last ounce of life has left the man’s body, Anders kisses Karl’s forehead and whispers.

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> based off my concept: "Karl had chronic illnesses while in Kinloch so Anders learned healing spells as fast as he could to keep his friend and lover alive and healthy. When Anders finally sees Karl again, the evidence of his poor health is written all over his body–his gray hair, the lines on his face, the tired bags beneath his eyes. No one has been taking care of Karl like Anders did, and it hurts. feels like failure."
> 
> I'm chronically ill, I have chronic pain, and I am sad about kanders.
> 
> come find me on tumblr @ storybookhawke
> 
> let me know what you thought about this :')


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